


Unexpected

by geekmama



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Semi-non-consentual Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: “…a woman was the very devil with a pistol in hand …”





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the potcsecretsanta fic exchange on Live Journal, back in the day.
> 
>  
> 
> *****************************

  
The sound of a pistol being cocked was Jack's first hint that something was amiss. He whirled about and stared at the figure seated in one of the big carved chairs amid the flotsam of his cabin, half in shadow. "Elizabeth!"

She didn't smile, but she did lift the weapon in her hand and take aim. Carefully. Just the way he'd taught her.

"Jack," she said, voice soft, and overlaid with menace.

"It's _captain_ ," he said, faintly; force of habit.

She almost smiled at that, a twitch of her lovely lips, just at the corner. "Not tonight it's not. Take it off."

"It?" He looked down at himself, still clad in piratical splendor after a convivial evening in port. Well... _near_ splendor. His coat could have used brushing, and the Dresden lace on the right cuff of his newly acquired shirt had got torn somehow. And he rather feared he reeked of perfume. He was pretty sure he'd got the lip rouge off his face, however, which was a piece of luck.

"All of it."

"Eh?" His eyes locked with hers. "All...?"

"...of _it. Now_."

"All... of it. You mean the sword, and the coat and the boots and--"

She raised the pistol, purposefully.

"Wait!" he yelped. He cleared his throat and considered her, frowning. "This forward behavior is most unbecoming in a... a lady of your genteel upbringing, ma'am."

She lifted her chin. "Sir, I have it on good authority that I'm naught but a pirate. And I think I should warn you that I've a second pistol here on the table beside me. Take care how you handle that one in your sash."

So much for catching her off guard.

He sighed, chewing his lip. "All of it."

"Just so." She waved the pistol at him by way of encouragement.

_Hmmm._ Nothing for it, apparently.

He set to work, slow and careful as her aim. Hat. Pistol, by two fingers: _easy does it_. Sword and baldric clattered to the floor. He shrugged the coat off. Took his time unbuckling the two belts with their furry and beaded adornments. The sash was next, working the knot from the worn striped material with some difficulty. His waistcoat took some time, too, with all the buttons, but it soon merged with the growing pool at his feet.

He hesitated a moment before he awkwardly toed off his boots, staggering a bit. A chuff of amusement came to his ears. He stopped, eyeing her resentfully.

“The rest, Jack.” Amused, maybe, but still serious. And seriously armed.

He scowled. _Slow and careful_. And seductive: he’d be damned if she’d be unaffected by this little play. He stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

And heard her sharp intake of breath.

He did not allow himself to smile until he’d turned his back to her, knowing how the candlelight touched him with a bronzed glow, and softened the harsh evidence of a pirate’s life. His hands went to the placket on his breeches and as he unbuttoned them – _slow and careful_ – he heard her rise from the chair, moving toward him. And he was not entirely unaffected himself.

He started to push the breeches down, but she stepped close behind him.

“No. I’ll do it.”

He stilled as her arms went around him. One hand retained the pistol, icy against his chest. The other was less cool, though not by much, but warmed as it made its way south, over his belly and lower still, slipping under the loosened waist of his breeches, finding him – very obviously _not_ unaffected – and curling ‘round.

He’d known it was coming, and yet could not help the odd sound that escaped his lips.

She buried her face against his hair and breathed deep, and gave him a long, firm stroke. And again.

"Lizzie--"

"Hush!"

The arm and hand with the pistol tightened alarmingly, and the stroking continued, an increasingly slick, sweet agony that drew a low groan from his throat. He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Wasn’t… expecting you… tonight.”

“Apparently not.”

“You can’t expect… a man to… to forgo… all his pleasures.”

“No? What of our agreement?”

“Can I help it if they can’t resist me? I swear… I never…” He broke off with a gasp as her hand left its previous employment and slid up wetly to catch the waistband of his breeches. The less important hand, the one with the pistol, shifted too, pressing the bore tight against his neck. _Bloody hell_. “Lizzie!”

“Were I you, I’d stay very still. Very. Still.”

He stood there, panting hard, while she unhurriedly bared him. The touch of fingers was presently joined by curious tongue and nipping teeth as she stole her way down his back. _Damnation_. 'Twas his _front_ that was in rather desperate need of attention…

But then, changeable as ever, she rose and moved away, leaving him wholly bereft. “Elizabeth!”

“Step out of those and turn around.”

He did. _Slowly_. Watching her expression as she raked her eyes over him.

She smiled.

You’d have thought that pistol and that smile would be more than enough to discourage lust. Instead, they had precisely the opposite effect. His balls ached with it, and his cock twitched as though it had a mind of its own.

“Lie down, Jack,” she said, soft and low.

“Right here?”

“Right there.”

He opened his mouth to object that they’d a very adequate bed, but then thought better of it. “Right.”

He disposed himself on the garment-strewn floor with what he felt was commendable grace considering the circumstances. He pulled his coat into a makeshift pillow, then lay back and smiled up at her, uncertainly, thinking simultaneously that a woman was the very devil with a pistol in hand and that he dearly wished she’d see fit to get on with it before he bloody spent himself from the mere touch of her eyes.

Oh, those eyes. And that smile.

“Don’t move,” she said, holding the pistol more casually. “If you touch yourself, I shall leave.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Which wasn’t precisely true, but she seemed to accept it at face value anyway.

She wore one of those new-fangled shirts with buttons and her free hand began to work the little darlings from their holes, baring more and more pale, silken skin. When the shirt was entirely open (and oh! the sweet swell of her slight and utterly perfect breasts! His hands closed, fingers alternately clenching and stroking his palms), she started on her breeches, popping open those buttons as well.

That nether garment was loose on her, and turned out to be the only one she wore. He stared, transfixed, and when she got to the last button, the word _undone_ flashed into his mind. He did not mean the garment that slid to the ground. He stifled a groan, muttering profanely.

She stepped out of the breeches and came to him, and demanded, “Don’t move!” as she straddled him.

“No… no of course not… _aah!_ ” For she’d moved, and quickly, sinking down upon him, impaling herself…God, the sweet heat of her… perfect… _perfect_ … he _had_ to move, had to close his eyes and arch up into her, gasping again, and groaning, “Elizabeth!”

“Oh, Jack,” she breathed, trembling.

And suddenly both her hands were on his chest, stroking, kneading. _Sans pistol_.

He caught her wrists, and she stilled, the both of them panting heavily. He said, “You’ve mislaid your weapon, love.”

Her eyes were bright with mischief and desire. “It wasn’t loaded.”

“Vixen!” He took the hand that had given him such brief, torturous pleasure and bit one finger, then drew it into his mouth to suckle it. She gave a soft sound and leaned forward, her entire body tightening around him. He kissed the finger, and said to her, “Elizabeth--”

“Y-yes?”

“You know you’re for it, now.”

She smiled, alight with wickedness. “Oh, I do hope so. I do so very much hope so.”

And then she shrieked with joyous laughter as he flipped her onto her back.

 

~.~   


 

 


End file.
